


An Obtuse Angel Is a Cute Angel

by Meltha



Category: Angel: the Series
Genre: AU, Crack, Humor, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-01-20
Updated: 2012-01-20
Packaged: 2017-10-29 19:52:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,083
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/323542
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Meltha/pseuds/Meltha
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Angel relates the story of how he and Lindsey wound up being, well, he and Lindsey.</p>
            </blockquote>





	An Obtuse Angel Is a Cute Angel

**Author's Note:**

  * For [sofy](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=sofy).



> Disclaimer: All characters are owned by Mutant Enemy (Joss Whedon), a wonderfully creative company whose characters I have borrowed for a completely profit-free flight of fancy. Kindly do not sue me, please, as I am terrified of you. Thank you.
> 
> Author's Note: Written for Sofy (soft_princess) for the second Lindsey Round at maleslashminis. She requested Lindsey/Angel, Lindsey joining the good side after “Blind Date,” a fight in a movie theatre, and Angel being clueless about being on a date.
> 
> Author's Note 2: Yes, the title is a reference to the most common spelling error in the fandom. It is also painful, yet I could not resist.

I admit that, possibly, on occasion, I might be a little dim when it comes to relationships. Personally, I think that’s pretty normal considering for about ninety years my closest companions were rats, and come to think of that, I wound up eating most of them, so that’s not really the definition of a healthy relationship, either.

And, of course, we all know how things wound up with Buffy. There are disasters, and then there are massive disasters; my relationship with Buffy on the disaster scale of one to ten weighed in somewhere around the level of the sinking of Atlantis. Not pretty. Not that Buffy wasn’t pretty. She was, is, really, but that’s kind of beside the point when I was essentially threatening to string her friends up by their own intestines. Overall, though, I think we can all agree that I was wildly out of practice in dealing with matters of high romance, at least the kind not related to massive bodily harm.

Hence, it was not my fault that I didn’t realize Lindsey and I were dating. He may call me, and this is an exact quote “a dunderheaded buffoon with the sexual radar of a drunk, ugly lemming,” but given the circumstances, I still say it’s understandable. Anyway, I’m pretty sure he means that in a fond way. Or he uses it to ensure he gets a sound spanking, which, really, either way, I win.

It all started with Gladiator. Lindsey’s ass had just been kicked to the curb by Wolfram & Hart after the incident with the blind kids. To this day he still swears that he walked out on his own volition, and he probably did, but personally I just like picturing Holland Manners literally punting his butt onto Rodeo Drive. It gives my demon side a warm, fuzzy feeling. But how, you might ask, does this relate to Russell Crowe and Joaquin Phoenix in a battle to the death while wearing what amounts to leather miniskirts?

Wow, that sentence wound up a lot gayer than I intended. Huh.

Anyway, Lindsey had shown up at the office, looking quite hang-dog and more than a little like he could use a hair of the dog on top of it. Cordelia was out to lunch. Technically, she’d been out for over three hours, claiming she needed “immediate medical care” for injuries incurred on the previous night’s rescue mission. That had me pretty concerned until I realized she’d broken a nail and was headed in for a manicure and pedicure because, of course, her fingernails and toenails had to match. With Cordy, though, it’s sometimes better to chalk it up to keeping the peace and let it go on occasion. Wesley wasn’t in either. He’d gone off to Sunnydale to pick up Giles’s copy of The Grimoire of Gadsburn. So there I sat, alone with Lindsey, him looking everywhere but at me while I kept staring him down, trying to figure out what he wanted.

“There’s trouble coming,” he finally said.

“There’s always trouble coming,” I said, fixing him with the hardest glare in my arsenal. “Tell me something I don’t know, like, say, what you’re doing here.”

“I figured, what with you being the big hero guy and me new to the whole conscience thing, maybe I should go to a pro for advice,” Lindsey said, breaking out that sarcastic grin of his. “That’s you, isn’t it? The professional goody-two-shoes?”

“Careful,” I said in the same tone I used to reserve for Spike when he was being a moron… so, basically, whenever I saw him. “Pot, meet kettle.”

“What’s that mean?” he said, suddenly belligerent, and yes, maybe I noticed that when he got angry his bottom lip popped out just a little bit.

“It means word travels fast in the demon world, and it’s common knowledge you scuttled out of Wolfram & Hart last week with more than a few black marks on your records, or I guess you could say white marks as the case might be,” I said. “You looking to join the team?”

“And be Robin to your Batman? Oh, may I?” he said, actually fluttering his eyelashes in mock adoration. “No, Angel. I’m not a team player.”

“Then what are you doing here?” I said. “I’m really running out of patience.”

“There’s a gang of Kronak demons that Wolfram & Hart has been tracking for the last several decades. Familiar with the breed?” Lindsey asked.

“They feed off human tension,” I said, “especially the kind related to public displays of violence. I had a brief encounter with a group of them in Spain during the 1820s after a bullfight.”

“Then you know their power increases exponentially very quickly, and the stronger they get, the crankier they get,” Lindsey said.

I nodded. As I recalled, the five in Spain had wound up killing several dozen people inside five minutes. Angelus thought it was fun, wanted to buy them all a drink later. Sometimes I really hate myself.

“Yeah,” I said. “I remember. So, where are they supposed to show up? Boxing match? Street fight?”

“Movie theatre,” he said, suddenly not looking at me again.

“Movie theatre,” I repeated disbelievingly and arching an eyebrow.

“Apparently the violent acts being watched don’t have to be real. All it takes is an audience that gets their systems switched on though perceived violence, even if they know it’s not actually happening,” Lindsey said. “But the side effects are real enough. The Kronaks still go crazy. They wiped out a little town in Nebraska back in 1995 when Mortal Kombat came out.”

“Okay,” I said, twirling a pen in my right hand without taking my eyes off him. “So, what’s playing? I’m guessing it’s not anything Disney.”

“Wolfram & Hart hooked them up with seats in the old Palace Movie House to see Gladiator,” Lindsey said. “It’s one of those places that still has a balcony. They stay up there, out of sight, until everything gets going on screen and then, pow, the guests the firm has so kindly invited, all of them fine, upstanding citizens, sitting below wind up looking like so much haggis.”

“Haggis?” I said. “How the hell do you know what haggis is?”

“Oh, I’m sorry,” he snapped. “I forgot. Since I’m from the South, I should have stereotypically referred to them at either chitlins or hog maw! Cut me some damn slack, Angel!”

“No,” I said.

“No what?” he said.

“No, I will not cut you slack. However,” and here I took a deep breath, “yes, something needs to be done about the Kronaks. I’m in.”

“So… you’ll go to the movies with me?” he said, looking at me kind of funny.

I just gave him a cold look and said, “Just tell me what time to pick you up, and don’t be late.”

At seven o’clock that night, on the dot, Lindsey and I pulled up in front of the Palace. It was a great old movie house. I hadn’t really been all that into movies back during the golden years of cinema, what with the massive self-loathing, but the few times I’d dragged myself to a show, I’d seen some good ones. It brought back a few nice memories… okay, immediately followed by more ones filled with the aforementioned self-loathing, but still, give me one of the old-time movie theatres over one in a strip mall with seats that feel like concrete and floors covered in butter any day.

“Are we going in or are we just going to stare at it?” Lindsey said, obviously impatient.

“Cram it, Lindsey,” I said, getting out of the car and making sure my coat billowed just so as we went in the front door. Purely for effect, of course.

The show was already underway, and we crept silently up to the balcony, the darkness oddly thick even to my eyes. Sure enough, when we reached the top, there was a gang of eight Kronaks, all of their eyes riveted to the screen. Unfortunately, that would be all the eyes that faced front. The eyes in the back of their heads blinked once when they saw us, then started screaming. Really, I think it’s kind of a bit much that their extra eyes also have extra mouths in them, but no one ever said demons understood the concept of taste.

The second the screaming began in the balcony, the audience below started clamoring for them to shut up, and more than a few kernels of popcorn came shooting up from the lower level, conking a few of the Kronaks on the head. By that time, though, Lindsey and I were moving. He took the four on the left while I took the four on the right. Kronaks are relatively easy to kill when they’re not primed for battle, and since the screen was still showing previews, a quick neck twist or two and they turned into piles of goo.

I would like to point out that I finished off mine a good five seconds before Lindsey. I’m just saying. I did.

The job was obviously done, so I started back towards the stairs when Lindsey shot his arm out.

“Hey,” he said, “we just got here.”

“What?” I said.

“The bad guys are dead, we’ve got the whole balcony to ourselves, you don’t have any other cases of helpless hopeless people or whatever it is Cordelia calls them, and I’d kind of like to see the movie,” Lindsey said. “What’s the rush?”

I stood there for a second, trying to think of some appropriately apt comeback, but then shrugged. Really, why not? It was supposed to be pretty good from what I’d read in the papers.

“Fine,” I said, sitting down, “but if you talk through the whole film, I’m leaving.”

“Shut up yourself,” Lindsey said, sitting in the seat next to mine. “It’s starting.”

It wasn’t bad. I mean, frankly, I liked Spartacus better, but it was still good. We were up to the bit when Maximus is just about to confront Commodus in the circus when Lindsey started yawning.

“Tired?” I asked, not taking my eyes off the screen. “Those demons take too much out of you?”

“No,” he said, yawning again and stretching and…

“Is that your hand?” I said, looking over at my shoulder.

“What?” Lindsey said, and I felt it move. “No. No. I mean, yes, but no, not like that.”

“Not like that?” I said, giving him a look. “Kid, the yawn trick was old even back when I had a heartbeat. Are you… is this a date?”

“What do you think?” Lindsey said, smirking.

“This is not a date,” I said. “Shut up and watch the movie.”

“Sure, sure,” Lindsey said. “I’ll go back to watching the movie… alone… with you… in an empty balcony… in the seat next to me… before you drive me home… on what is obviously not a date.”

I looked at him, then the screen, then back at him again, and it’s possible that my jaw may have dropped a little.

“Geez, this is a date,” I said, stunned.

“Is it?” Lindsey said in a fake-innocent voice.

“This is… unexpected,” I said, moving in the opposite direction.

“Angel, just go with it, alright?” he said, giving me one of his looks. “It’s not that big a deal. I promise I’m not going to try to offend your virtue or something.”

“This is a date,” I repeated, still pretty startled.

“Oh, for crap’s sake! I haven’t been out with someone this nervous since Loretta Sue when I was in high school, and at least she had the excuse that her brother was known for threatening any boy who talked to her with an ax!” he said. “Now sit down, shut up, and watch the damn movie!”

Oddly, I did. It took all of three minutes before the arm showed up around my shoulder again. By the time Maximus was dead, I found I didn’t care all that much. I was busy with other things. Lindsey and I left the theatre considerably after the last credit had rolled.

So, that’s how things stand now. Lindsey is in no danger of making me achieve perfect happiness. Occasionally, I admit, he’s on the verge of having me kill him because he’s annoying the hell out of me, but that’s fine.

I swear, though, if Cordelia says one more time how cute a couple we make, I’m snapping the heels off her Manolo Blahniks.


End file.
